


The Things That Money Can't Buy

by Berty



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-23
Updated: 2009-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 01:31:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Berty/pseuds/Berty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel Jackson thinks he has nothing left to lose now his career and his life's work have been snatched from him. Jack O'Neill is a man with a proposal and the money to make it happen. But what they slowly discover is that a man cannot be defined by his work or by his bank balance, and that happiness is rarely where you expect to find it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things That Money Can't Buy

**Author's Note:**

> This story is partially inspired by the film "Indecent Proposal". It was beta'd by the fabulously talented Saladscream who never fails to impress me with her eye for detail and her grasp of what I meant to say! Thank you so much, Salads.

The desk clerk was well trained; Daniel had to admit it. At no point did his voice raise or his language become sharp. He was polite, reasonable and professional, and it was making Daniel, not normally a violent man, want to beat him to death with his own desk calendar.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Jackson, but until the bill is paid, I am unable to release your items from the hotel safe."

"Unless you _give_ me the items, there is no way I will ever be able to _pay_ the damn bill," Daniel said, annoyed to hear that his own voice didn't match the clerk's calm tones.

"I'm afraid there is no recognised form of payment listed in the contents of your deposit box, sir. Is that incorrect?"

"Well, not precisely, it's..."

"So there is no cash, bank card or other form of currency in your possession?" The man's hand hovered over the telephone receiver, just waiting for Daniel to twitch before he called security.

"I've told you, I don't have a credit card and my expenses card has been stopped. All I have is the cash in my wallet..."

"Forty-six dollars?"

"Yes, but..."

"I'm sorry Dr. Jackson. Your bill amounts to four hundred and eighty-two dollars and thirty cents, leaving a shortfall of four hundred and thirty-six dollars..."

"I'm short of funds, I'm not stupid," Daniel snapped. He wasn't handling this very well, he knew, but the unflappable receptionist was beyond irritating. Daniel had used this tactic of icy calm on others, and only now that it was being returned with such effect on himself did he realise how intensely annoying it was. He needed something to shout at, something to release the anger and sense of injustice that seethed inside him, and this... this... _person_ wasn't giving him that option.

Or perhaps he was just going quietly insane.

"... and thirty cents. Unless you have other means of payment, it is hotel policy to retain any items held in our safe to recover the cost of your stay."

Daniel took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, counting backwards from twenty in Arabic. His fingers itched to grab the clerk by his neatly pressed lapels and shove a copy of the hotel policy right up his undoubtedly professional ass.

"Listen to me," Daniel said, leaning over the counter, closer to the perfectly groomed, perfectly polite desk clerk. "What I have in that deposit box is worth nothing to anyone but me. It is my passport, my visa and a document of permission to carry out an excavation, granted by the Department of Antiquities of the government of Egypt. It took me years... _years_ to achieve, and it would take me months to get a replacement. If you give it back to me, I will be in a position to get the money I owe you."

Daniel swallowed at the white lie; he had no idea if he would be able to dig up the money from somewhere, but without his documents, there was no point in even trying. "I can assure you, had I known that my circumstances would change quite so dramatically, I would never have taken a room in your hotel. I was in no way attempting to defraud your delightful establishment, it's just that circumstances have..."

"I'm very sorry for your altered circumstances, Dr. Jackson, but our hotel policy is quite clear on the matter of non-payment of a bill. Now if you'll allow me, I will call the duty manager who will be glad to escort you..."

Daniel closed his eyes briefly and wondered if he could make himself pass out. If he hit his head hard enough perhaps by the time he came round this whole thing would be over. Or maybe he could get a case of amnesia, and then he wouldn't have to remember the spectacular way his life had imploded in the last twenty-four hours.

It had seemed so innocent - an invitation to speak at a conference on scientific dating. Daniel had jumped at it. He'd already secured the funding he needed for his next project, but in an effort to minimise costs, he hadn't factored in any salary for himself, thinking that once on site, he could work out such unimportant details then. The fee from this lecture would have been enough to get him to Cairo and for him to live on - he was a man of modest living expenses. Sadly, his fee was also how he was going to pay for his hotel room whilst attending the conference.

Two days ago he'd had a job, an apartment and a reputation - albeit a rather maverick one. Now he had nothing. At yesterday's seminar, he'd introduced the evidence he'd found of anomalies in the dating of non-organic artefacts by type, a practice that he'd argued had led to incorrect conclusions about the chronology of the pre-dynastic period.

He'd known his theory might cause some heated discussion, but he'd been unprepared for the vitriolic attack from the audience, led by a former colleague of his, Steven Rayner. He and Rayner had history and had had a rather bitter parting of ways, but Daniel had once been Rayner's research assistant, they'd been good friends. Very good friends. Daniel had been so stunned by the force of Rayner's attack, he'd been unable to argue his corner as well as he normally would have. The upshot of which had been the lecture hall turning into a morass of noise and laughter that had been closely followed by a resounding silence as the delegates had filed out.

Daniel had mentally dusted himself off and carried on only to be further assaulted this morning with the news that he would not be paid for his participation in the conference, that his grant had been revoked, that his position at the University was no longer available and that the apartment that went with his job needed to be cleared within the week.

He thought life owed him someone he could shout at a bit, but providence had provided him with the earnest, diligent, imperturbable desk clerk who was droning on so reasonably before him.

"Excuse me."

The droning stopped, something for which Daniel could finally feel grateful. He opened his eyes to find another man leaning over the counter with him. The clerk had turned his insincere smile on this new distraction without a beat of hesitation.

"I couldn't help but overhear the situation that Dr. Jackson has found himself in. If you could add his bill to my account and give him back his possessions, I'd be grateful."

The man smiled winningly at the clerk, who had suddenly, inexplicably paled slightly.

"Of course, Mr. O'Neill. I had no idea that Dr. Jackson was an associate of yours. I should never have insisted..."

"Don't mention it. Just..." O'Neill waved his fingers in an imitation of typing and the desk clerk complied immediately.

"It will take a few minutes for your belongings to be fetched, Dr. Jackson. If you would care to take a seat, I'll have them brought to you."

"Thank you," Daniel murmured distractedly, feeling thoroughly confused. He didn't know any O'Neill, let alone the confident, rangy man at his side.

"Care for a drink?" O'Neill asked him, and without waiting for an answer, he turned and strolled back the way he'd presumably come.

Daniel trailed him, feeling foolish. He'd never encountered anything like this and wasn't sure what was expected of him.

O'Neill took a seat in one of the leather chairs of the quiet hotel bar and was immediately approached by a waiter.

"What can I get you, Mr. O'Neill?"

He turned his head to Daniel and raised an eyebrow.

Daniel took a second to understand. "Oh! Uh, a beer please?"

"Two," Jack clarified with raised fingers, and the white-jacketed attendant gave a small bow and withdrew. Jack gestured to another, identical chair and leaned back in his own, comfortable and assured.

Daniel envied O'Neill's easiness as he took a seat and tried to make some sense of this new development. Was O'Neill some sort of Good Samaritan or was Daniel just being naïve? "Mr. O'Neill, I'd like to thank you for your generosity. You've just... well you've just uh..."

"You're welcome. And it's Jack," O'Neill said, waving off his act of kindness with quiet modesty.

Daniel couldn't guess the man's age, unless it was between thirty-five and sixty. Daniel could still see brown among the silver of his hair, and his face was smooth, but the lines around his eyes and mouth hinted at a greater maturity than the rest of his lightly tanned skin suggested. His dress was young and casual, yet obviously expensively in chinos, a white, cotton t-shirt and a chocolate brown leather jacket that exactly matched the colour of his eyes. Not, Daniel reminded himself, that he should be noticing details like that. And this Jack kept himself trim with not an ounce of extra fat visible around his jaw or on his abdomen.

"I'm... I'm Daniel... Jackson," Daniel responded quickly, realising, too late, that he'd been staring.

Jack smiled knowingly and took the glass that the waiter offered him. He waited for Daniel to do the same before raising it toward him in a toast. "Nice to know you, Daniel."

"You too," Daniel responded, knowing that he sounded lame. To cover his embarrassment, he took a deep swig of his drink, only remembering as the taste hit his tongue that he didn't actually like beer.

Daniel decided it was time to take some control back here; Jack was just one more confusion to add to his pile, and he simply didn't need it. He had things to sort out; a lot of things, considering his whole life had just been kind of blown out of the water.

"So, Jack, if you'd like to give me your address, I'll send the money I owe you as soon as I have it. I'm afraid it won't be tomorrow or anything, but I _will_ repay you as soon as I can," Daniel promised sincerely, he just didn't know how yet. He maybe had some stuff that he could sell, and as he had no apartment now, he wasn't going to have space to store things, so that was as good a place to start as any.

"No hurry, Daniel. Whenever is fine." Jack smiled at him again in a manner that Daniel thought of as 'direct', possibly even 'appreciative'.

"Do you stay here a lot?" Daniel asked, trying to be polite, looking around the quietly affluent décor of the bar and avoiding the eyes of the man sat opposite him. Jack fitted in perfectly here. "They seemed to know you quite well at the desk."

"Yes, I stay whenever I have business in the city. I keep a suite upstairs."

"And where do you live the rest of the time?" Daniel continued, hoping he wasn't coming across as nosy, but Jack was intriguing, and Daniel could never resist a puzzle.

"Oh, I'm pretty nomadic actually. I have a house to the north of here in Lake Bluff, a place in the Rockies, a chalet in Switzerland and an island in the West Indies," Jack replied without a trace of conceit. In fact he seemed a little uncomfortable, if anything, scratching his nose and brushing lint off his pants.

"Wow," Daniel said with a genuine smile. "That's..." He trailed off with a shake of his head.

"Ridiculous. I know," Jack responded, looking up with an echoing grin. "What does a single guy need all that property for?"

"And what's the answer?"

"Damned if I know. You'd need to ask my accountant. He deals with most of my property investments."

"Is that what you do? Property?" Daniel knew he should really stop asking questions now, before he became too involved. He should just thank the nice man for bailing him out, and go and find some way of making some money to repay him.

"Nope, that's a sideline. I'm in aeronautics actually."

Daniel tried not to let the shock show on his face. He was such an idiot. Maybe, if he hadn't just had his life wrecked, he might have realised who his saviour was: Jack O'Neill was the reclusive founder of AEAC, the most successful, progressive aerospace engineering firm in North America. His story was legend in the business world, coming from humble beginnings and reaching his current dizzying heights through hard work, self-belief and shrewd planning. He'd since diversified into telecommunications and media, software development and renewable energy. Everything he touched seemed to turn to gold, as the cliche went.

Daniel loathed the world of big business, didn't understand it and didn't want to, but even he had a grudging respect for the low-profile head of AEAC.

"So how about you? You're not from Chicago, or you wouldn't be staying here," Jack asked, apparently unaware of Daniel's epiphany.

Daniel sipped his beer again to buy some time. He couldn't believe he was sharing a drink with someone as powerful as this guy, and he didn't know how much to admit; he didn't want Jack to withdraw his offer to pay his bill by scaring him off, but it was his policy not to lie unless it was absolutely necessary. "Well, I was going to Egypt next month on a dig. I'm an archaeologist," Daniel explained, and regretted it immediately when Jack quickly smiled and raised his eyebrows.

"You probably guessed that," Daniel muttered, rolling his eyes at his own stupidity. "Anyway, I was teaching undergraduates at Brown until... uh... this morning..."

"I saw your lecture," Jack said quietly.

"Ah."

"That was a brave thing you did."

"Brave or stupid?" Daniel asked with a wry smile.

"Do you believe in your theory?"

"Well, of course. I wouldn't put my reputation on the line for something..."

"Then it's bravery," Jack stated flatly. "I'm not an archaeologist, don't know a thing about it. But I do know, whatever field you're in, that new ideas about old questions often get a rough reception. You didn't deserve that, though."

"Maybe not, but it's immaterial now. There were a number of the University's more generous benefactors in the audience obviously, and their views were less... ah... liberal than your own."

"And your excavation?"

"Was mostly being sponsored by the Faculty," Daniel acknowledged for the first time aloud. It was strange how speaking the words made the situation seem more real. He closed his eyes, briefly overwhelmed by the task ahead of him. He needed a new... everything: job, home, career probably.

"Can you postpone your permits until you have new funding secured?"

"No. Well, not indefinitely. The Department of Antiquities receives hundreds of applications a year for permission to excavate. You have to prove that you have a good research brief and that your objectives are in keeping with their current outlook. That can take years. Then, if you're lucky, they will grant you a licence for a limited period - usually a season at a time."

"And finding that much funding in time?"

Daniel laughed bleakly. "Even if there were spare money floating around for a project like mine, I doubt there are going to be many who'd be prepared to give it to _me_. I seem to have made myself a bit of a persona non grata."

Jack nodded, bit the inside of his cheek and took a sip from his glass while Daniel cast around for a way to wrap up this interview which had become rather awkward. He put down the rest of his beer on a side table. "So, I'll just send a check to J. O'Neill care of the hotel, right? Is that okay?"

Jack didn't reply, he just watched Daniel carefully, as if sizing him up.

"And thanks again. I really do appreciate your kindness. And I _will_ repay you." Daniel turned as a porter brought him a folder containing his belongings from the hotel safe, grateful for the distraction. He checked the contents and signed the receipt.

And still O'Neill said nothing, waiting until they were alone again. "Aren't you going to finish your beer?" he asked finally.

"No, thanks. As you can imagine, I have quite a lot to do," Daniel said with shrug. He stood up and held out his hand to Jack.

"A million dollars."

"Excuse me?"

"A million dollars. Would that cover the shortfall on your project costs?"

Daniel frowned, looking around the room for a second to ground himself. Was he hearing things? This couldn't be what he thought it was, surely? But Jack was still looking at him, waiting for an answer. Daniel lowered his empty hand and stared. "Uh... yes. That would... More than enough. Yes."

"I'll give you a million dollars."

"You'd sponsor my excavation?" Daniel's voice sounded suspiciously high in his ears.

"No. I'll give _you_ a million dollars. What you do with it is up to you."

"I can't repay you, Jack." Daniel had thought Jack had understood what he'd been saying. He had no employment and from what the Dean had said on the 'phone a couple of hours ago, little prospect of any.

"It's not a loan. You'll earn it. Sit down for a minute."

Daniel tried to stop his heart from pounding and his head from racing ahead. This guy wanted to be his patron? His years of effort and research weren't going to be wasted? There might be a chance that his career wasn't over? Daniel felt almost ill; today was really too much for any man to bear. From everything to nothing to everything again in less than twenty-four hours? No wonder his head was swimming.

Daniel sat down rather heavily and reached for his glass again.

"Why would you need an archaeologist?" he asked, cutting to the chase once the beer had made speech a possibility.

"I don't."

"So when you say I could earn the money, you mean...?"

Jack put his glass down and leaned closer to Daniel, his elbows resting on his knees. Daniel watched him, unsure of what to expect. He could catch a trace of Jack's scent he was so near. Jack smelled good, woody and spicy, and Daniel wondered if the half glass of beer he'd drunk had made him high. He wasn't the kind of man who habitually noticed what other people _smelled_ like. Or even looked like, most of the time. Perhaps he _was_ losing his mind after all.

"For your time, Daniel," Jack explained slowly, clasping his hands in front of him and looking at the highly polished floor.

"My time."

"Yeah." Jack looked up and watched Daniel intently. His eyes were dark and Daniel felt the weight of being their focus.

"My time?"

Jack nodded.

Daniel opened his mouth to speak when a wave of understanding swept down his spine, cold and breathtaking. He stared back at Jack, racking his brains for another explanation than the one he'd come up with. On another day, under other circumstances, Daniel might have encouraged the kind of attention he thought Jack was paying him. Jack was a handsome man, an intelligent man and, Daniel had to admit, a very attractive man. Daniel, despite his funk, had noticed this even before he'd known whom he was sharing a beer with. But to be propositioned like this was... It just didn't seem like it was possible. There had to be another explanation.

"Are you...? Is this what...? I'm sorry," Daniel stuttered. "I'm not sure I understand."

"I think you do, Daniel. You're a bright enough guy." Jack sat, apparently still relaxed and calm. He subtly licked his bottom lip and waited while Daniel floundered.

"You have to be joking," Daniel exclaimed, but Jack simply shook his head slowly.

Daniel gazed around the bar, which was mercifully almost deserted. Surely things like this didn't happen in places like this. This was a nice hotel - too nice for Daniel's budget except that he'd got a heavily reduced rate courtesy of the conference organisers. The kind of thing that Jack was proposing was a street corner transaction, or something you called discreet agencies to arrange for you, not something you asked a stranger for in a hotel bar. And a million dollars? Daniel didn't have any experience of prostitution - unknown men, yes, but not prostitution - but he thought that a million dollars was an awful lot for something Jack could presumably pick up downtown for under a hundred.

Jack finished his beer and stood up. "One million dollars for twenty-four hours of your time, Daniel. Starting now. It's up to you," he murmured. He pulled a keycard out of his pocket and put it on the table beside Daniel. "Eighteenth floor. Suite B."

"Why?" Daniel managed.

"Why what?"

"Why... a million dollars. That's..." Daniel shook his head, lost for words and with too many questions to begin to articulate them.

"Money I have, Daniel. Company I do not."

Daniel didn't watch as Jack walked away, he just listened until the sound of his footsteps became jumbled up in the other noises of the hotel.

Then he reminded himself to breathe.

///

Back in his room, Daniel cast around for something to keep himself occupied and to stop him from freaking out. He packed all his belongings, checked every drawer and cupboard twice, made a few 'phone calls (none of which were good news), watched the traffic out of the window for a while, then went to the mini-bar to see what he could drink; he figured he could pay Jack back for that too. He threw himself down on the bed to think, sipping whiskey from the stupid, tiny bottle he'd discovered.

He was pretty much out of options. The few people he'd called after his conversation with his head of department that morning had confirmed his suspicion that he'd been blackballed. Even academics he'd worked with in the past were either unwilling to talk to him or sympathetic but unable to help.

At first he'd been angry, furious in fact, that his work - his life's work - was going to be unfinished and unseen because he'd been naïve enough to hope for open-mindedness from his profession. He knew he was right, he was certain that he could prove that the pre-dynastic period had been miscalculated, based on a few, spurious radiocarbon dates from artefacts found a hundred years ago. With months of effort and years of research he'd assembled the site, the permits, the staff and the resources to review the dating based on artefact evidence he would recover from his upcoming dig. And now that was all going to be for nothing.

Unless he took up Jack O'Neill's offer.

He had precious little to sell, no University backing him, no family to turn to and no one but himself to blame.

But his anger had faded as the futility of his position had become apparent, and now he was just desperate.

And it _was_ just sex. Daniel wasn't above a one-night stand; he'd done it before when he'd needed that kind of connection with someone and the touch of some skin other than his own. Daniel knew that it was a basic human drive - he'd done it for nothing, how could it be harder to do it for money? It wasn't anything other than what it was: sex.

But could he justify selling himself - even to fund his precious work? On one hand it seemed so easy; Jack was attractive, it wasn't like Daniel was being asked to sleep with a troll. On the other hand, Daniel had never used sex for anything but pleasure before, and what kind of a man would it make him if he fucked Jack, took his money and went to Egypt? Even if he _found_ his evidence and repaired his professional reputation, would he be able to look himself in the mirror ever again?

Could he look himself in the mirror now? Knowing that he was even thinking about accepting the offer?

Daniel got up from the bed and walked to the bathroom a little blearily; the beer and the whisky were not something he was used to, particularly at lunchtime.

Carefully placing his little bottle on the basin, Daniel switched on the light and peered at himself in the mirror. It was odd how he looked exactly like he had yesterday: 5' 11", 170 lbs, mid-brown hair, blue eyes behind metal framed glasses, kind of bookish - geeky, if he was being honest with himself. He didn't think he looked like the kind of idiot-innocent who'd throw his career away on an unproven theory, anymore than he looked like the kind of guy who fucked for money. And he didn't know if he was appalled or reassured by that.

Daniel leaned on the cool rim of the basin and sighed. "How did you get yourself into this? And what are you going to do about it?"

He looked at the slightly flushed man in the mirror, but he wasn't forthcoming with any answers so Daniel drained the whiskey, switched off the light and grabbed his bag from the foot of his bed. On his way out, he snagged the second miniature from the mini-bar and stuffed it in his jacket pocket.

The elevator hummed to a halt on Daniel's floor after only a few seconds' wait. An elderly couple shuffled to one side to make room for him and his luggage.

"Going down?"

Daniel blinked at them, then got a grip on himself, smiled and nodded quickly. He watched above the door as the numbers slid by to the first floor, like a countdown, like a gun held to his head.

He shouldn't have drunk that whiskey if he was driving. He pulled out his wallet and checked it again. It still only amounted to forty-six dollars. He tried to remember how much gas he had, and whether his parking had been included in the price of his room. Was forty-six dollars going to be enough to even get him back to the apartment that was no longer his? Did he have anywhere else to _go_?

When they reached the lobby, Daniel stood aside to let his companions out. His hand on his bag was white-knuckled as he stood frozen, his eyes on the front desk where his nemesis from earlier was sharing a polite joke with a young businessman.

Daniel was out of options.

He quickly pulled Jack's keycard out of his jeans pocket and slid it into the elevator lock. The door slid shut on him just as the clerk looked in his direction. Daniel was certain, despite his earlier investigation that he must, in some way, look different: guilty or provocative or... _something_. And whatever it was, he was sure the clerk had seen it.

Daniel took out the second bottle of whisky and twisted the cap off. He hit the button for the eighteenth floor and drank the bottle down in one swallow, hissing as he felt the burn snake its way from his throat and into his squirming belly.

///

Jack's suite was a lot like the bar downstairs in that it was stylish, understated and undeniably expensive, but it was also oddly clinical. Even the touches meant to humanise the place could do nothing to dispel the feeling of transience. Daniel was greeted by a man in a polo shirt, who seemed to be expecting him and who called him by name. He took Daniel's bag and jacket and directed him into a large room that had a magnificent view of the city.

Jack was talking business with a man in a quiet, grey suit, their heads bowed over a thick ream of paperwork, but he stopped when he saw Daniel step unsurely into the room.

"Daniel, come on in," Jack said with a smile. "Thanks, Jeff. Let's leave it there for today. Can you ask everyone to take the afternoon off except Carl?"

The man in the suit collected his papers and briefcase and walked past Daniel with a polite nod of his head. Daniel wondered what the hell the guy could be thinking, with Daniel standing there, empty handed and reeking of alcohol, and Jack dismissing his staff at 1.30 pm on a working day.

Daniel thought he might just throw up, what with why he was there and having the whisky and beer settle heavily on his otherwise empty stomach. "This is a mistake," he said as soon as the door closed behind Jeff.

"Well you haven't done anything yet," Jack told him calmly and Daniel wondered if the guy _ever_ had a doubt about _anything._ He walked past Daniel and into a small kitchen area.

"Why am I here?" Daniel asked, following Jack's movements with his eyes.

"Lunch?" Jack suggested, putting silverware on a tray.

"Jack..."

"I'll answer your questions, Daniel. Can we just have something to eat first? I'm starving and you need something to soak up whatever it is you've been drinking."

"Whiskey," Daniel admitted.

Jack straightened up from where he'd been searching in the refrigerator. He looked as if he was about to say something, but pursed his lips and carried on piling food onto his tray.

He brought everything to the table that stood near the window, laying it all out so they could face the view while they ate.

"Don't you have people to do that for you?" Daniel asked a little spitefully as he watched Jack work.

"Usually, yes, but I am capable of doing it myself, and I thought you might feel a little more comfortable if we were alone."

Daniel doubted that but said nothing, just sat where Jack gestured. He felt a little guilty; Jack was the guy who had just saved his bacon downstairs and he was simply trying to put him at ease. But his spitefulness returned momentarily, reminding Daniel _why_ Jack wanted him relaxed.

The meal commenced in silence. Daniel ate fresh bread and cheese with fruit and sparkling water, surprising himself with how hungry he was. He hadn't eaten much yesterday and his conversation with his erstwhile employers had chased any thoughts of breakfast out of his mind.

"Feel better?" Jack asked when he'd finished. Daniel looked up from his plate, noticing that Jack had eaten only sparingly. But he realised that Jack was right, he did feel better now.

"Yes, thank you."

"Feel up to a trip? We can talk on the way," Jack said and walked around behind Daniel's chair, holding it while he stood.

"Jack, I don't know what you're used to, but you should know that I have no idea what I'm doing here," Daniel said, turning to meet the man eye to eye.

Jack paused for a moment. "Like I said, Daniel, you're a smart guy, you'll work it out."

Daniel figured now was as good a time as any to find out if he was going to be able to do this; Jack was right there in front of him, watching him with that confidence he displayed so readily. Daniel quickly leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Jack's mouth, short and hard and slightly off target.

Jack's mouth was dry and tight, and he made no move to return Daniel's gesture. He stepped back, his fingers coming up to his lips and brushing over them where Daniel had touched him.

Daniel held his breath.

Finally Jack smiled, a small quirk of his mouth, no more. "Come on. I need you to help me."

Jack walked from the room, leaving Daniel standing, staring stupidly after him. This was the third time Jack had done that in as many hours, and Daniel was getting really tired of it.

///

Jack's 'trip' was a private viewing at an art gallery a few blocks from the hotel. Carl was revealed to be Jack's driver, and they were taken in the back of a large, black car.

The show was one Daniel had read about, a young artist named Brycjek in his first one-man display, but who had caught the critic's eye with his unusual and bold use of texture and colour. Daniel was relieved when he and Jack were left alone by the gallery staff to view the work unharassed.

They walked around in companionable silence for ten minutes, and Daniel had lost himself in the artwork, forgetting why he was there, before Jack broke the spell.

"What do you think?" he asked, coming to a halt in front of a large purple and black canvas, incongruously titled 'Peace Descending'.

"What do you mean?" Daniel asked, coming to stand beside Jack and staring up at the lurid image.

"Do you like it? Should I buy it?"

"Do you want it?" Daniel shot back.

Jack looked at it again. "It reminds me of something," he said slowly.

"A migraine?"

Jack surprised him by laughing aloud. It suited him: it made him look younger and less... controlled. "Alright then, which one would you choose?"

"Seriously?" Daniel asked, blinking when Jack nodded encouragingly.

Daniel thought for a minute, retracing his steps and finding the canvas he'd spotted earlier. It was much smaller than the one Jack had singled out. In warm shades of gold, green and russet it depicted a river bend in a rural landscape. In the background, barely visible, a couple were walking close beside the water, their reflections just smudges of brown. It had an intimacy that Daniel liked, a feeling of impending rest.

"This one?" Jack asked, coming up behind him. He moved closer to the canvas, tilting his head before turning to Daniel and smiling.

"Well I'm not exactly qualified to advise you..." But Jack had already signalled for someone to come and remove the frame from the wall.

"Which house are you going to hang that in, Jack?" Daniel asked as they climbed back into the car, waiting illegally at the front of the gallery. "How often will you even look at it?"

"You don't think very much of me, do you?" Jack observed quietly, putting up the screen between them and Carl as they seated themselves.

"I wouldn't say that," Daniel replied coolly, watching out of the window as they pulled into the traffic. "You're the guy who bailed me out today and who's going to keep me in work for a few more months."

"I like beautiful things, Daniel," Jack said. "I'm not a total monster."

Daniel looked around quickly and Jack held his gaze for a moment before looking away. He reached into a door pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"What's that?" Daniel asked, as Jack smoothed it out with long, deliberate strokes.

"This is yours," Jack said, offering him the single, thick sheet.

Daniel took it and read it through. There wasn't much there. It was a contract, a simple document stating Jack's intent to pay Daniel $1000,000 in return for his company and 'such services as may be mutually agreed upon'.

Daniel gritted his teeth, holding back the nausea that flooded his throat. He didn't know why he was surprised; Jack was a businessman after all, and this was business. Daniel, however, didn't think of himself as being quite that mercenary, although his mind whispered that's _exactly_ what he was - and worse.

When Daniel dropped the paper on the seat between them, Jack took a pen and signed it, folding it and handing it back to Daniel.

"And when I'm not worth a million?" Daniel inquired icily. In the mess of uncertainties his life had become, this was just one of his concerns, but a valid one.

"Well, your taste in art has saved me $300,000 already," Jack replied with a careless shrug.

Daniel didn't laugh.

///

Jack took Daniel's jacket and hung it alongside his own in the roomy closet back in the hotel suite. Daniel remembered having dorm rooms that were smaller, a story he decided not to share with his host.

"So, did you have more questions?" Jack asked, leading Daniel back into the large reception room. Someone had been in to tidy away their lunch, and the place was spotless once again. Impersonal. Sterile. Outside the huge windows, the autumn sky was beginning to darken and the lights of the city began to blink on.

Jack sat on the huge suede sofa, kicked off his shoes and flopped back.

Daniel remained standing just inside the door to ask the question that had him the most confused. "Why me? Why a complete stranger, Jack?"

Jack looked at him for a quiet moment. "Well that's a question," he muttered. He sat back up again, crossing his ankle over his knee. "Because you had no idea who I was, and even if you had known, you wouldn't have cared less."

Daniel walked slowly over to the sofa and sat on the opposite end to Jack, his body turned toward him, and waited for Jack to clarify that.

"Most of the people I come across day to day know who I am, Daniel. They know _what_ I am. They expect things from me. You don't," Jack explained carefully. "Even when you realised I was _that_ Jack O'Neill, you didn't ask me to help you and you didn't try to bullshit me."

"But you're..." Daniel waved a hand at Jack, struggling for the words, "... you. Rich. Famous. Handsome. Successful. You could have anyone you wanted."

"That remains to be seen," Jack sighed, looking pointedly at Daniel.

Daniel blinked but refused to be distracted by pseudo-compliments. "There must be a hundred escort agencies in the phone book."

"To provide me with what? A body to fuck?" Jack asked, suddenly harsh.

"Isn't that what you want?" Daniel shot back, just as sharply.

Jack threw up his hands and seemed about to retaliate, but instead he slowly shook his head and looked away.

Daniel was completely out of his depth. Was this a business arrangement or was this a seduction? And if he were a commodity, then why was Jack bothering to compliment and listen to him? Maybe it was some kind of elaborate game or a token gesture to Jack's sense of propriety. But why weren't they in his bed?

Why wasn't Jack getting his million's worth?

Daniel sat back and the crackle of the contract in his pocket reminded him that whatever Jack wanted, and however Jack wanted to play it, Daniel had agreed to render certain services. He'd got this far, he guessed it was time to step it up before he came to his senses and walked away; he needed that money.

Jack glanced up at Daniel warily when he got to his feet, put his glasses on the table and moved closer, coming to stand in front of Jack.

Daniel slowly reached out a hand, and with only a slight hesitation ran his fingers through Jack's hair. It felt... all right. Normal. Not sleazy or forced or an obligation.

Maybe he could do this.

Maybe he actually _wanted_ to do this, money or no money.

It had been long months since Daniel had gotten laid. Even the brush of Jack's hair against his palm was making his heart beat faster and a low, sweet ache start up in his belly.

Jack seemed to freeze for a moment, then leaned into Daniel's touch and closed his eyes, apparently enjoying the contact. Jack's reaction made Daniel bold, and he knelt down before him. Jack's eyes went wide when he saw Daniel at his feet. His expression was a strange mixture of shock and want that Daniel had never seen before and that sent further ripples of excitement through him. Jack wanted him. Jack wanted him badly.

"Daniel," Jack croaked, but Daniel leaned in and kissed him, bringing up a hand to cradle Jack's jaw and rub his thumb over the roughness of Jack's cheek.

Once again, Jack froze, his lips going hard under Daniel's, but Daniel persisted this time and with something like a sob, Jack relaxed, opening up and letting Daniel lick gently into his mouth.

Jack's arms came around Daniel's shoulders, clutching at his sweater while Daniel kissed him as sweetly as he knew how. Jack's mouth was warm and wet, and despite the unforgettable knowledge that this was what it was, Daniel felt his dick begin to respond.

After his initial reluctance, Jack kissed enthusiastically, matching Daniel move for move but letting him set their pace. Daniel placed a hand on Jack's thigh and ran his fingers slowly, deliberately up Jack's inseam to his groin. If he'd been concerned about Jack's reaction, he was in no doubt now. Daniel could feel Jack, hard and hot against the thin material of his pants.

Jack groaned into Daniel's mouth as Daniel cupped the bulge, rubbing the heel of his palm over the solidness there. With deft fingers, Daniel unbuttoned and unzipped Jack's pants, compensating for the fact that everything was the wrong way around from this angle. Carefully, Daniel pulled at the material of Jack's shorts and freed his cock. He pulled his mouth from Jack's and looked down between their bodies.

Jack's dick was thick, cut and glistening at the tip. Daniel hadn't been with a man in a good while, but the sight of Jack's erection, bobbing between them got an answering surge in Daniel's own pants and made his mouth water.

Daniel leaned back slowly and put a hand on Jack's chest when he tried to follow. He gently pushed Jack, who finally complied and lay back against the sofa, watching Daniel with hot, heavy eyes.

Daniel shuffled closer in between Jack's spread thighs and pulled the material of Jack's pants and shorts out of his way. He leaned forward and breathed in the scent of Jack's groin, hot and slightly sweaty and badly wanting.

Daniel knew how to do this; it wasn't like he'd never sucked a cock before. He was surprised, however, to find that he _wanted_ to do it. Even though their arrangement was a silent but ever present witness to this, Daniel's body was responding to Jack's lust as if this were an impromptu liaison, something done for fun, not financial reward.

Daniel looked up quickly to see if Jack was content, to find him watching still. Very deliberately, and wondering at his own motives, Daniel pushed up the hem of Jack's shirt so Jack would be able to see him, then he leaned in and licked a stripe up Jack's cock, ending with a soft kiss at the tip. Jack _groaned_, deep and long and desperate, and Daniel took pity on him, taking him back into his mouth almost immediately.

Soon Daniel had a rhythm going; he took Jack deep, sucked him hard as he pulled off then lapped at the crown. Jack twitched and strained, the muscles of his thighs corded and thick under Daniel's palms. He panted and sighed, and Daniel knew he was close when he felt Jack's hand come into his hair, gentle and unsure, but carefully guiding him to hold Jack's cock in his mouth now. Daniel obliged, wrapping his lips around Jack's shaft and sucking until he felt him pulse and swell, until the half-forgotten, briny taste burst onto his tongue.

Jack was still trembling when Daniel let his cock slip from his mouth. Daniel lifted his gaze to Jack's face, unsure what he'd find there. But Jack's eyes were closed, his mouth soft and his head tipped back, gone far away.

Daniel tucked Jack away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His own cock was a hard, delicious ache, constricted by his pants. He decided he'd leave Jack to recover and find the bathroom. That way he could jerk off and clean up without Jack ruining the pleasant buzz he had going on.

Daniel got to his feet quickly and quietly, but made it no further.

"Daniel," Jack murmured and grabbed him by the hand, surprisingly strongly after such an apparently spectacular orgasm.

Daniel allowed himself to be pulled back down to the sofa. Jack was heavy, a dead weight against him, sleepy and sated as he pushed Daniel back into the seat and took his mouth in a deep, lazy kiss.

Jack's hands found their way under Daniel's shirt, stroking his skin and sending tiny zings of pleasure straight to his dick. Daniel held his breath as Jack's hands swept lower across his belly, across his hip, across his hard-on.

Jack paused, rolled onto his side and looked down at Daniel's groin, then up into his face.

"You should do something with that," Jack murmured with a slow smile.

Daniel watched Jack's face for some indication of what he meant, but Jack was leaving it all up to Daniel. Slowly, Daniel tried to push up, to get off the sofa, but Jack gently pushed him back, pinning him down.

"Here," he clarified, finally. "Where I can watch you."

Daniel didn't know if he could. He'd never done anything quite so wanton before, but Jack's eyes were still dark, daring him, desiring him. The sky too was dark now, and only the light from the hallway reached them there on the sofa. Daniel slowly unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them and his briefs down together, relishing the feel of the cool air against his sticky, hot skin. He looked to Jack for further instructions and Jack's expression left little doubt that he wasn't disappointed. He looked... hungry, almost predatory, but he simply watched, waiting to see what Daniel would do.

Daniel was shocked by the rush he felt at being the focus of Jack's attention. Any vestige of self-consciousness was blown away the second Daniel touched his cock. He was so ready for this, but he toyed with himself a little first, cranking himself up just a little further, teasing himself by rolling his balls in his hand and stroking his cock with an open, sweaty palm.

It seemed he was teasing Jack too, whose rough breaths in his ear were encouragement enough. Daniel closed his eyes, letting his imagination take him the rest of the way. They were Jack's hands on him, Jack's fingers that teased and knew him so very well, Jack's fist that had the perfect grip balanced between pain and a pleasure so incandescent, it blinded him. This was Jack's pace, Jack's rhythm, all about Jack. This was Jack's...

... mouth on him. Sucking him in, swallowing him down, grazing his teeth against Daniel's shaft, mouthing at his cockhead and exhaling wet warm gasps of breath onto his balls.

Daniel convulsed, shooting over and over into Jack's greedy mouth, which swallowed, licked, sucked every last dribble from him until Daniel thought he'd die from the indescribable bliss of it.

When Daniel opened his eyes again there was more light in the suite and Jack was gone, presumably into the room from where the glow of golden light was coming.

Daniel looked down at himself, sprawled across Jack's sofa, his cock hanging out of his pants. He looked like a slut, which he guessed was pretty appropriate actually. And what was more, he felt like a slut, and it wasn't a feeling he was very comfortable with. So now he was the kind of man who not only prostituted himself, but was also more than happy to let someone watch while he jerked himself off. Not bad progress for a few hours.

He knew that the only way he was going to make it through the next few hours, _if_ Jack wasn't already tired of him, was to put his morals to one side. He didn't disapprove of prostitution per se, he'd just never considered that he'd be an active participant in it. He'd had anonymous sex before, and if he could just forget how this twenty-four hours was supposed to end, maybe he could relax and stop coming up against these crises of conscience.

He lay back, hiding his face in his hands for a few moments before he composed himself and carefully got up and found his glasses. He adjusted his clothing while he quietly walked across to the half-open door.

Daniel hadn't seen this room yet. It was obviously an office and Jack sat at a big, important-looking desk, talking quietly on the phone. Daniel didn't think he'd made a noise, but Jack looked up almost immediately.

"I'll call you back," he told whoever he was talking to and switched off the phone without waiting for an answer.

"Hey," Daniel said, uncertainly. He wasn't entirely sure if he was welcome here any longer. Perhaps he'd fulfilled his contractual obligations now Jack had enjoyed him and the itch had been scratched. Or would Jack want him as many times as he could get it up during the twenty-four hours of their agreement?

"Daniel. I didn't wake you, I hope."

"Uh, no," Daniel replied, still lost. Jack's face was impossible to read and his even voice gave no clues.

"I have to make some calls, I'm afraid. Why don't you go and take a bath or read or something? The bathroom is off the bedroom and there're books on the shelves."

Daniel nodded, swallowing the flash of humiliation that rose up inside, and closed the door behind him.

Obviously Jack wasn't done with him yet. He supposed a million dollars entitled him to more than just a blowjob, no matter how good.

Jack's bathroom was the size that Daniel's whole hotel room had been. It was masculine and functional, and Daniel immediately changed his mind about Jack's suggestions and opted for the offered bath when he saw the dimensions of the semi-sunken tub.

It took a surprisingly short time to fill, and Daniel shed his clothes and sank into hot water up to his neck, groaning softly at how good it felt to be warm and fucked out. He still couldn't quite believe that Jack had finished him off there on the sofa. He thought that maybe his imagination had been better than it'd ever been before, but he remembered Jack's mouth on him, and a gentle check on the shaft of his soft, floating cock persuaded him that he was a little tender there, right where he remembered Jack's teeth catch him.

The thought of it made Daniel's dick twitch interestedly, but he resisted the temptation to stroke himself and soaped all over instead. Daniel recognised the scent of Jack's soap; it was part of what he had smelled on Jack earlier in the bar, a combination of green notes and low spices. Once again, Daniel's cock gave a lazy jerk and began to fill, heavy and hot between his thighs.

Daniel lay back in the water, deliberately keeping his hands behind his head to avoid temptation. If Jack had paid for it, Daniel thought he'd better not squander his stamina on self-gratification, even though his recovery time was something he was quietly proud of.

Although he tried not to, Daniel couldn't help but wonder what Jack had in mind for later. If he could put aside his squeamishness over accepting money for his time with Jack, he could also admit that he was enjoying the physical contact and the feeling of connection he got with him, despite his uncertainty over the next move.

And that wasn't helping either. The more he thought about Jack, the harder he became. He needed to find a distraction and fast.

Jack's bedroom was strong, modern and masculine. In shades of chocolate and ecru, it had the same impersonal feel to it as the rest of the suite. At one end of the room, dark wooden shelving covered a wall, holding a small library of books on wildly diverse subjects, and Daniel wondered if Jack had chosen these particular titles or if they had been selected by an assistant or an interior designer.

Daniel had been lying on Jack's bed for forty minutes, reading a book on the history of flight, before Jack returned.

"I'm sorry about that, Daniel," Jack said with an easy smile, as his eyes roamed over Daniel, stretched out before him. "I had to reschedule tomorrow morning a little. You wouldn't believe how long it can take to work out the simplest things."

"It's alright, I don't want to get in your way," Daniel replied, sitting up quickly. He'd only put on his shorts and a t-shirt, wondering whether Jack wanted to go out to eat or what.

"Don't get up," Jack assured him. "I'm gonna grab a shower and then I'll be right with you. Dinner's on its way up."

Well, that answered that dilemma, and Daniel stretched out again on Jack's enormous bed and waited.

Dinner, when it arrived, was a simple meal of chicken, rice and salad with a bottle of white wine that Daniel suspected cost more than he made... used to make... in a month.

Jack lent Daniel a robe, and they ate by candlelight at the windows again, overlooking the sea of coloured light that Chicago became at night. Jack was charming, full of questions about Daniel's work and the places he'd visited. Daniel felt almost relaxed although the frisson of anticipation wouldn't quite let him forget that he was there for a reason.

When they'd finished the wine, and the plates had been removed, Jack took Daniel's hand and led him unsubtly back to his bedroom. Despite the wine and the bath, Daniel felt all his reservations return as Jack stopped him before they reached the bed and helped him remove his robe.

Jack lifted it from his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Standing behind Daniel, Jack ran his big, warm palms down Daniel's arms and then down his torso. He grasped the bottom of Daniel's t-shirt and pulled it slowly up and over his head before discarding it.

Dinner and reading had allowed Daniel's dick to soften somewhat, but Jack's single-minded attention and appreciative silence was making him harden fast, tenting his shorts.

Jack's hands were still on Daniel's shoulders, and Daniel was quiet, wondering what Jack was waiting for. He turned his head slightly to see Jack staring over his shoulder. When Daniel followed his gaze he was surprised to notice a mirror on the door of one of the closets. Jack had placed him here deliberately.

Jack's eyes over Daniel's shoulder glittered in the subtle, calculated light. Daniel looked hard at their reflection, noticing for the first time that they were closer in height than he'd imagined. Jack projected an image of strength and power, and Daniel had translated that into 'taller'. Jack's skin was slightly paler than Daniel's, and where Daniel's chest was smooth, Jack's was lightly dusted with the same mix of silver and brown that Daniel had admired on his head.

Jack put a hand on Daniel's chest, right over his heart, then slid it lower, watching all the while in the mirror. When Jack's hand reached his cock, straining under the thin cotton of his shorts, Daniel groaned and dropped his head back on Jack's shoulder. It felt fantastic to be touched, and so close to what Daniel needed.

Jack's fingers were greedy, groping beneath the material to find skin. He stroked Daniel for a moment before withdrawing his hand and tugging Daniel's shorts off, directing him to step out of them with a gentle push.

Now Jack's hands were on Daniel's hips, rubbing his thumbs over the hard curves of bone there, and Daniel lifted his head to see Jack's eyes, taking him in, slowly, savouring him. Daniel knew he should feel self-conscious, but he wasn't ashamed of his body. For a geek, he felt he wasn't too shabby, and although Jack's muscles were probably more defined than his own, Daniel's shoulders were broader and his thighs stronger looking.

"You're... you're... beautiful," Jack whispered against his neck, sounding as surprised to be saying it as Daniel was to be hearing it. "Do you...? Can I...?" Jack dropped his hands from Daniel's hips and walked around to face him. "I want to fuck you, Daniel," Jack told him bluntly, his lips wet and his cheeks high with colour.

Daniel nodded shakily, lust and shock making his pulse race and his cock strain and twitch. He felt he should be disgusted with himself. He felt he should be putting up some resistance, or at least a kind of sarcastic commentary, but the truth was that he wanted Jack as badly as Jack seemed to want him.

With shaking fingers, Daniel untied the belt of Jack's robe. Jack wasn't wearing anything underneath and Daniel was pleased when he pushed back the edges of the soft, heavy material and revealed Jack's cock, eager and hard for him.

Jack took Daniel's hand again and led him to the bed. Rather than ask, Daniel waited for Jack to tell him what to do. Jack seemed to be caught up in the same wonder as Daniel though, and instead of speaking, he gently manoeuvred Daniel onto his hands and knees on the rough brown silk of the bedcovers.

Daniel was panting already, desperate to feel Jack's skin on him, anywhere, whatever he wanted - the sooner the better. It was like he was suddenly sensitised and everything that touched his skin sent lightning sparks of feeling through him: the thread beneath his knees, the cool whisper of breeze from the open doorway, it all taunted him, teasing his needy, desperate skin.

The mattress eventually dipped behind Daniel and he braced himself for fingers or even Jack's slicked-up cock already. It had been a while, but Daniel would have welcomed the sharp sting and aching stretch of Jack filling him rough and fast, just for the connection, for the sheer joy of being touched. Being wanted. Being taken. Daniel knew he wouldn't soften, even if Jack weren't gentle; in fact just the thought of it made Daniel grunt in anticipation.

But it wasn't Jack's finger, or his cock that Daniel finally felt against his skin. It was the warm, damp gust of Jack's breath the second before he felt the strong, muscled heat of Jack's tongue sweep wetly across his hole, then press against it, lapping at him, pushing inside him.

Daniel moaned, oddly disappointed to feel no sudden stab of discomfort, knowing that he was being breached, but he pushed back at the new, interesting feeling. Fingers, dicks and even toys he'd felt before, but no one had ever done this for him. It was a whole new level of intimacy, even beyond being fucked. Jack didn't stop, licking and sucking and nipping at Daniel's cheeks and hole, and Daniel forgot his initial reaction and gave himself over to it, beginning to enjoy the pace that Jack was setting. Daniel trembled and whimpered spreading his legs further apart in an effort to get more of this delicious sensation.

Daniel began to rock on his knees, fucking himself on Jack's mouth and tongue. He thought about sinking down and finding some friction, to hump the rough material beneath him, but that would mean losing the exquisite touch of Jack's lips.

"Not yet, Daniel," Jack murmured from behind him, but Daniel was overwhelmed, riding the wave of feeling, shaking apart, even as he felt Jack's mouth leave him.

Jack somehow managed to turn Daniel, roll him onto his back and pin his hands to stop him writhing. "Not yet," Jack repeated, letting go of his wrists to take Daniel's balls in a firm hand and give them a tug.

Daniel gasped, blinked against the sudden wetness in his eyes and stared at Jack, bending over him. He held his breath, waiting for the sharp ache to subside.

"Daniel," Jack began, his voice husky and broken, " I'm sorry. I have one night of this. I want... I want so much."

Daniel nodded mutely, understanding the need. He panted up at the ceiling. "I'm sorry," he said when he could trust himself. "I didn't expect that. It was... fucking amazing."

"Do I need to put a ring on you?" Jack asked softly, his voice almost a purr, running his flat hand down Daniel's belly towards his dick.

Daniel thought about it for a second before shaking his head. "No. I don't... I uh... I recover fast. I can usually..."

Jack's fist closed around Daniel's cock, gentling and grounding him, and Jack leaned in and kissed him, slowly and thoroughly. "That's good to know," Jack said quietly, getting up and kneeling between Daniel's splayed thighs.

Daniel watched passively as Jack tore open the condom packet he'd left on the bed and rolled it on, slicking himself up. Then he turned his attention to Daniel, taking his time, opening him up with his strong, blunt fingers. It didn't take long for Jack to judge Daniel ready; Jack's mouth had already done a good job in relaxing him and Daniel kept his eyes closed while Jack worked, savouring the unfamiliarity of Jack's hands.

The cool hardness of Jack's cock at his hole was something Daniel could never have imagined wanting so badly. He shifted down the bed, squirming to get Jack to move faster and get inside, but Jack was icy calm, holding Daniel's legs high and wide, and giving him his cock at his own speed, feeding it to him slowly.

Daniel took a few calming breaths, being led by Jack and tried to be patient, tried to get every scrap of pleasure from this second rather than rushing at the next one. It was surprisingly good, a much fuller experience than Daniel's other partners had given him, although Daniel would concede that his own impatience might have been partly to blame for that. He felt Jack's fucking throughout his whole body, rather than just in his ass or his cock. He had time to savour the responses Jack provoked, from the least to the most intense. It was all good. In under a minute Daniel felt like he was floating and that he could go for hours like this, but Jack was setting the pace and had decided differently.

He bent lower over Daniel, forcing him to curl tighter. With his hands planted either side of Daniel's body, and his chest hard against Daniel's thighs, Jack had more strength behind him, fucking Daniel deep and intense and better than anything Daniel had ever known. There was nothing in the whole world but Jack inside him, all around him, giving and taking and possessing. Jack's cock was everything, the aching heat and the cooling remedy in one. Daniel was split apart, impaled on Jack's dick and made whole again with each thrust.

When Jack bent even lower and groaned, "Now, Daniel," Daniel's orgasm slammed through him, taking him by surprise and making him shout Jack's name aloud as he flooded the hot skin of their bellies. He fought to keep his eyes open, to watch Jack's face when he came, and make sure that he wasn't disappointed.

Jack's eyes opened wide, he faltered, stopped and sighed. "Oh God, I can't," he murmured. Daniel felt Jack swell and shoot, deep inside his ass. Jack's muscles tensed and strained, keeping Daniel as tight to him as possible as he came, almost smothering him with his caresses.

Although stupid and heavy with coming so hard, Daniel managed to roll them both onto their sides before Jack collapsed down onto him. The sudden change of position meant that Jack slipped from Daniel's body, making him feel a stab of regret that surprised him.

As he drifted on a feeling of weariness and satisfaction, Daniel opened his tired eyes and saw Jack's face, pink and relaxed next to his own and on it an expression that he couldn't place, but it definitely wasn't disappointment.

When he awoke, Daniel vaguely recalled Jack touching him, wiping him down with a warm, wet cloth and checking his ass for signs of their enthusiastic coupling. Daniel was grateful that he'd been too sleepy to care - he seemed to remember that Jack had been quite thorough.

He could see from the darkness of the room that it was still early, and Jack slept on at his back, his arm slung carelessly over Daniel's waist. Daniel tried to keep still; he couldn't remember the last time he had spent a whole night in someone else's bed, and the feeling of waking up next to another person, and in their arms, gave Daniel an unexpected contentment.

He'd missed this.

It was too long since he'd felt this connection.

Daniel had become a man defined by his career, so busy being _what_ he was that he'd lost sight of _who_ he was. The irony of this situation, and how he had come to be reminded of what he'd forfeited was not lost on him.

Carefully, slowly, he eased back closer to Jack, relishing the prickle of the hair on Jack's thighs against his ass and the heat of Jack's breath against his neck. When Jack's soft cock brushed against his ass, Daniel stopped, relaxing into the feeling of being held. He closed his eyes and decided to enjoy it for as long as he could before the morning came and all the enormity of what he'd done and why returned to torment him.

He was starting to fall asleep when he felt Jack move, clutching at Daniel's belly and pulling him closer. Jack's cock was also stirring and Daniel caught his breath at the sensation of him filling and thickening against his ass, swelling and spreading his cheeks.

Jack's mouth found the back of Daniel's neck, kissing into his hairline and making Daniel shiver. He hummed in appreciation and Jack froze, his lips against Daniel's skin still. But he obviously couldn't hide the interest his dick had in its current location and Jack swelled faster, becoming a hard warmth between Daniel's legs and nudging at the back of his balls.

"Daniel," Jack murmured, his voice croaky and unsure.

Daniel stretched, grinding his ass into Jack's groin and sending thrills throughout his own body. His dick was fast catching up with Jack's and he squirmed into Jack's embrace, pushing a reaction from him.

"We... Don't. I was too rough. You must be swollen still," Jack whispered into Daniel's hair, holding himself completely rigid and ignoring Daniel's provocation.

"I'm fine," Daniel lied. Truth was that he _was_ sore, but it was the sweetest pain Daniel could think of. The thrum of the blood in his heavy cock sent twinges into his ass and he wanted Jack's fucking to take them away and replace them with something even better.

"Daniel," Jack groaned when he shimmied against him, dragging his ass down the length of Jack's hot cock.

"C'mon, Jack. It's like you said. You only have one night," Daniel reminded him.

Jack said nothing, and Daniel was beginning to wonder if he'd said the wrong thing entirely, but then Jack kissed his neck again, pushing his hips at Daniel and sliding a hand down his sweaty belly.

Jack rolled away quickly, and Daniel knew without looking that he was collecting what they'd need from his well-stocked nightstand. When Jack returned a minute later, he was ready, slick and eager. Jack bit at Daniel's neck and shoulders, little nips, not intended to mark, but nevertheless they shot straight to Daniel's cock and made him breathless with need.

Daniel began to roll, expecting Jack to voice a preference for him on his back or his knees, but Jack held him tighter, keeping Daniel on his side.

"Shhh," he whispered and pressed against Daniel's knee until he bent his top leg on to the bed in front of him. "Stay there."

Jack's touch was gentle when he checked Daniel's body was open to him. Already Daniel could feel the sting of tender, overused skin as Jack worked him carefully with three fingers, but the desire to have Jack rub him deeper and more firmly made Daniel push back onto Jack's hand, hurrying him and demanding more.

"Are you always this pushy?" Jack huffed, half-amused against Daniel's shoulder.

"Focussed. Goal oriented. Not pushy," Daniel replied with a smile Jack couldn't see. Daniel held his breath as Jack withdrew his fingers and spread him wide.

Jack's entry was smooth and long and perfect. It gave Daniel no time to think about the stretch and sting of his hot ass before Jack was buried, balls deep inside him, filling him up just the way Daniel needed.

Jack's fingers had found Daniel's nipple and he pinched and rolled it, sending extra tingles through Daniel. Jack held him closer still, tugging Daniel's hips more snugly onto his lap as he seated himself in Daniel's hot hole. "God, Danny," he grunted.

Daniel would have been surprised to hear his name modified like that if he hadn't been concentrating on Jack's hand skimming his belly and hip before running a thumbnail up the length of his leaking cock.

"Jack," he moaned, "Fuck me."

His preferred position didn't give Jack the mobility of their earlier lovemaking, but what he lacked in power, he made up for in intensity. As if he knew that Daniel had been lying about the tenderness of his hole, Jack was making every stroke count, deep and slow and so totally right, that Daniel was already close to coming.

Jack's hand was slick and cool when he closed his palm around Daniel's dick. He kept his grasp loose, pulling almost lazily on his shaft, making Daniel desperate for more, but Jack wouldn't be hurried.

Jack rolled his hips a little, pulling Daniel further onto his back and sinking his cock a little deeper into his ass. The angle of Jack's thrusts shifted and dragged his dick slowly over Daniel's sweet spot with each push. Jack's fist kept pumping, matching his thrusts for a few more strokes before Daniel gave it up, shattering him into a million bliss-soaked pieces. He was dimly aware that his own orgasm had once again triggered Jack's and the ragged jerks of Jack's cock inside him counterpointed Daniel's own.

If Jack cleaned him up and checked him out that time, Daniel didn't remember it. He woke up to daylight and an empty bed. Jack's side of the sheets was already cold, so Daniel knew he'd been gone for a while. He retrieved Jack's robe from the floor and pulled it on, surreptitiously taking a sniff of Jack's lingering scent. He made his way carefully out into the living room, feeling the ache of unused muscles and tender skin.

Daniel followed the smell of coffee to Jack. Unfortunately, Jack and the coffee had company, but Jack looked up at Daniel's entrance with a genuine smile.

"Hi! I thought you'd never wake up," he said.

Jack's assistant, a guy Daniel remembered as the man who'd greeted him yesterday, quietly collected up the laptop and paper in front of Jack while Daniel stood awkwardly aware of his semi-naked state.

Jack tipped his head at him with another unreadable, soft smile. "Daniel, this is Rob McPhail, my PA. Rob, this is Dr. Daniel Jackson."

Daniel waved a hand in greeting, resolutely not approaching the man any further.

"Hi! Nice to meet you," Rob nodded, then turned back to Jack. "So if there's nothing else, I'll get out of your way."

"No, that's all. Thanks, Rob."

Daniel stood and blushed hard as Rob took his stuff and walked out, passing within a metre of him. Daniel knew what he must look like and smell like, but Rob was the epitome of obliviousness.

"You okay?" Jack asked, when Rob had shut the door behind him.

"I'm fine. I just wasn't expecting..." Daniel tipped his head toward the door.

"Sorry, I should have warned you. They pretend they still need me to run the company, but I'm pretty sure they're just humouring me."

It was Daniel's turn to smile, surprised and pleased at Jack's lack of conceit. "Is that coffee?" he croaked.

"Come and get it," Jack confirmed, pouring a second mug from the pot.

Daniel sat and nursed his coffee at one end of the couch while Jack sat at the other and read through the papers Rob had left him. Daniel knew that if he started thinking, he'd begin to feel uncomfortable and uncertain again, so he concentrated on the mug in his hand and the slight frown of concentration on Jack's face when he read.

For one ridiculous moment, Daniel wondered what it would be like to start every day like this, in this easy quiet, close but not touching. He could get used to this kind of companionship. During the week, he'd kiss Jack goodbye when he went, with plans for the evening already made. Maybe on Sundays they would go back to bed with the newspapers and trade sections while they drank their coffee.

"What are you thinking about?"

Daniel started, not having realised how far he'd slipped into daydreams.

"Nothing. The newspaper, actually," he responded.

Jack looked a little puzzled and passed the paper to Daniel who took it, but didn't open it.

"So what does Rob have in store for you today?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Nothing that's as much fun as I could be having here with you," Jack promised him. "I have to fly out to Sweden this afternoon for a few days."

"I'll go then, shall I? You need time to pack and get ready?"

"No, not really," Jack replied quietly. "I have people to do that..."

"Yes, of course. I was forgetting the whole billionaire thing."

"I'm glad," Jack replied quickly and with a slight edge that Daniel didn't miss. "Because that's not all I am, you know?"

"No, I know," Daniel said. "I didn't mean that you were..." He sighed. "Sorry."

Jack shrugged and stood up. As he passed Daniel on the couch, he paused, then ran a hand through Daniel's hair, letting the strands slide slowly through his fingers.

"I'll see about some breakfast while you shower, okay?"

Daniel nodded and retreated to the bedroom where no one could hear him the next time he said something stupid.

Breakfast was a quiet, informal affair, but Daniel was on edge. Again. He had no idea what Jack wanted him to do now. Officially, and despite Daniel sleeping later than he had in years, Jack still had an hour and a half left of their agreement. Did he want Daniel to stay? Did he want to take him back to bed again? Or was he eager for Daniel to leave and he just didn't know how to say it?

When they got up from the table, Daniel lingered by the windows, hoping that Jack would make it clear what was expected of him now. Daniel watched the city bustle below them, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans. He looked up when Jack came to stand beside him.

"I don't know what's supposed to happen next," he confessed, surprising himself with the truth so plainly stated.

"Nor do I, really," Jack replied, his eyes scanning the skyline. "I don't know what you must think, but I haven't actually ever done this before."

Daniel stared at Jack. Was that a line? Was that some kind of speech he gave to present an image of innocence? And why would he bother to justify himself to Daniel?

"But your staff," Daniel said, "they didn't bat an eyelid to have half-naked, half-drunk men in your suite."

"I've had friends here before, Daniel, just not ones..."

"You're paying," Daniel finished for him with a stab of spite. He didn't know whom he was trying to hurt, himself or Jack.

Jack didn't flinch, but he turned his head and stepped closer to Daniel. He cupped Daniel's jaw and ran a thumb over his bottom lip, then leaned in and kissed him, softly and slowly. Jack's mouth was warm and sweet with coffee and honey and his tongue touched gently at Daniel's lips with a sensation that was almost but not quite a tickle.

Daniel took a few seconds to relax into the kiss, unsure of what it meant. He knew that technically he was a possession, but in the light of a new morning and with the subtle reminders of last night in every move he made, the guilt was beginning to settle upon him.

It was a conflicting sensation to feel so alive and so satisfied, because they'd been _good_ together. Daniel had loved every minute of their intimacy and couldn't remember being so well fucked or with such intensity. But knowing that, other than the money, Jack owed him nothing made him feel sick. There was going to be no goodbye kiss, no exchange of numbers, not even without the slightest intention to call. Even in Daniel's modest experience of one-night gigs, he'd known how to play it, usually leaving before he fell asleep, but this obligation was beyond his knowledge and almost beyond bearing.

Daniel didn't move when Jack stepped back. With his eyes shut he could pretend Jack was something else, a lover, a friend, a partner. He could imagine that their kisses meant something: "see you later" or, "don't be late" or, "I love you".

It was just easier that way.

Jack was watching when Daniel opened his eyes. Biting the corner of his lip - it was the first time Daniel had seen Jack look anything but self-assured. He stood for a long time, looking into Daniel's face for something.

Daniel didn't know what.

"You know, maybe you're right," he said finally. "I do have things I need to finish before my flight." Jack's voice was low and sounded weary. He turned away from the window and walked to the other end of the room to make a short phone call.

So that was it. Daniel was dismissed. He'd performed his part of the bargain, given Jack what he'd asked for and now he was to be paid off like a tradesman, an employee or a hit man.

Stiffly, Daniel walked into the bedroom and grabbed his holdall, stuffing his jacket roughly into it before zipping it up. He told himself that he was being ridiculous and over-romantic. He reminded himself of what he'd done - what he'd agreed to - and that Jack had never offered him anything but what he was about to get. A million dollars. His dig. His proof. His career.

Then why did he feel like he'd been betrayed?

Why was he so fucking angry and disappointed and unhappy?

Seriously? What more did he want?

He waited until he'd regained some control, then walked back into the living room. Jack stood by the windows waiting for him, a briefcase and some papers on the table before him. Rob had returned, and stood unobtrusive and silent on the far side of the room.

So Daniel was to endure this final humiliation. There was to be a witness to his guilt, someone to see him take the money he'd earned by letting Jack fuck him.

Jack watched Daniel cross the distance between them silently, his head tipped to one side and an almost bleak look in his eyes.

Daniel couldn't think of a thing to say that didn't sound bitter or desperate, so he said nothing.

"There's twenty thousand in cash, and the rest is in bearer bonds," Jack said into the deafening quiet, pushing the briefcase toward Daniel. "Thank you, Daniel."

Daniel couldn't look at him, couldn't bring himself to lift his face to see this side of Jack. Or for Jack to see at this side of himself.

When it seemed that they would shatter the very fabric of time with their strained silence, Daniel lifted a hand and took the handle of the briefcase.

"You could stay, you know," Jack murmured, laying two fingers on the lid.

"Here? With you?"

"Yes."

"What about Sweden?"

"You could come with me."

"For another million?"

"If that's what it takes."

Daniel laughed softly, finally looking up at Jack's face. "Until what? You run out of money?"

Jack shrugged and looked away. "Or until you did it for another reason than money."

"Like what?" Daniel demanded, wondering if Jack had the answer, hoping that he might have a clue about how they got off this road to hell.

Jack shrugged again and Daniel felt suddenly cold.

Daniel clicked the clasps on the case and lifted the lid, dislodging Jack's finger without resistance. The bonds were on top, and beneath them, more neatly wrapped fifties than he'd ever seen.

He reached in and ripped one of the bundles, pulling a small stack of the notes out. Carefully he placed them on the table in front of Jack. "What I owe you for the hotel room," he explained.

Jack blinked at him wordlessly, and watched while Daniel refastened the case and walked out of the room without a backward glance.

/ / / / /

Daniel felt sick. This was worse than defending his first thesis; worse than facing his first class of undergrads. The house in front of him was... well, it wasn't a house at all. It was a mansion. From the manicured gardens to the security he'd had to go through to get this far to the highly polished brass on the (huge) front door, everything screamed money and power. Daniel looked down at his jeans and his good jacket and figured he need not have bothered. His entire wardrobe probably didn't cost as much as Jack's pyjamas.

This was quite possibly the worst idea he'd ever had - and he'd had some experience of bad ideas over the last few weeks. Even here in front of Jack's house, he had no clue about what he was going to say. All he knew was that it had been three weeks since he'd walked away from Jack and he hadn't known a day... or night's peace since then.

Of course he'd been busy; refinancing the excavation at such short notice had been a task of mammoth proportions and it wasn't until his suppliers had seen the colour of his money that they had begun to take him seriously. But even in the insanity of that organisational feat, he would catch himself thinking about Jack, wondering about him and his motivations. It nagged at him, it distracted him and he needed... something. Some kind of confirmation or closure, he supposed.

The door opened as Daniel mounted the steps, and a smartly dressed man greeted him.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Jackson. Was Mr. O'Neill expecting your visit today?"

"Not exactly, no," Daniel admitted, figuring this was the part where he was escorted from the grounds or they set the dogs on him. To be honest, he was amazed he'd got this far.

"He's currently in a meeting, but if you'd like to wait in the study, I'll get a message to him that you're here."

Daniel saw a glimmer of redemption, a way out, and took it. "Oh, well I don't want to disturb him. If you'd just tell him that..."

"No, sir. Mr O'Neill left very clear instructions that he was to be informed of your arrival."

Jack had been expecting him?

Trying not to sweat, Daniel stepped into the light, airy hallway. He'd never met a real, live butler before; it was kind of unnerving. He showed Daniel to a room toward the back of the house with glass doors that led out onto the garden. Daniel watched the door shut behind him, then walked once around the room, running his fingers over the spines of Jack's books and across the smooth wood of his desk. He stopped in front of the windows and looked out at the trees, red and gold in the afternoon sunlight, and tried to get a feel for Jack from this room. He wondered if Jack ever took the time to turn his big, impressive leather chair and look out at this too.

This was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. He'd hoped to be able to thank Jack, to draw some kind of line under their brief acquaintance and to be able to take away a memory of Jack other than the day they had shared - the day Jack had paid him for. Daniel wanted to know that he would actually have liked Jack anyway, no matter the circumstances of their meeting. His own sense of identity, his sanity, needed it.

He turned back into the room and a familiar sight on the wall opposite Jack's chair immediately caught his eye. He walked silently across the carpeted floor and came to stand in front of a canvas in golds and greens; the Brycjek he'd picked out at the gallery three weeks back.

He was still staring at it when Jack spoke.

"Hello, Daniel."

Daniel turned quickly, wondering how long Jack had been there, watching. Jack's eyes flicked to the picture on the wall, but he didn't make a comment.

"Jack. How are you?"

"Fine, and you?" And he looked fine. He looked very fine.

Daniel's stomach did some weird, complex flip, making him feel even more unsettled than he had before. "Yes, fine. Thank you. Look, I didn't mean to interrupt you, I'm sure you're busy with the new Swedish contract and everything..." Daniel trailed off.

"I didn't know you followed the business world so closely, Daniel," Jack said with a small smile and gestured him toward the couch.

Daniel winced when Jack turned away, and congratulated himself on making himself look like an even bigger loser. So? He'd been keeping up with the Wall Street Journal lately. Many people did.

"Can I get you a drink or something," Jack asked as he sat down.

"No thanks."

"Are you going to sit?" Jack invited calmly when Daniel hovered indecisively for too long.

With something approaching irritation, both at Jack's good manners and at his own stupidity, Daniel sat at the opposite end of the couch. "I only... Look, I just wanted to come and say goodbye. Again. I'm, uh, leaving tomorrow."

"You got everything sorted out with the Egyptian government?" Jack sounded as if he were actually interested, turning his body toward Daniel and leaning subtly his way.

"Yeah. Once I proved that the funds were there it was pretty straightforward."

"I'm glad. How long will you be there?" Jack asked casually, looking as relaxed as he always did, damn him.

Daniel had no name for the jumble of emotions he was experiencing - just an awareness that they were making him behave like a headcase. He'd come here for an ending, but his body remembered Jack and what he could do to him, and Daniel was concerned to feel a flicker of interest thrill through him. Was that why he'd come? Was all this closure crap partially an excuse to justify seeing Jack again? And when had he begun lying to _himself?_

"Well, we have a permit to excavate for twelve weeks, and from then it depends on what's there. If anything." Daniel forced himself to concentrate on the conversation.

Jack nodded. "Well I hope you find what you're looking for, Daniel."

"Thanks. Thanks. I'll let you know." Daniel raked his fingers through his hair and pushed his glasses back up his nose. He hadn't resolved anything. He'd just made things worse. Jack didn't owe him anything or the other way around. This wasn't anything but what it was: an arrangement. He was looking for a resolution that didn't exist. What had he been thinking?

"Daniel? Was there something else? Do you need..?"

"No!" Daniel spat, then took a deep breath and composed himself. The nausea he'd felt earlier was back in full force. Jack thought he was here for more money? But then based on Jack's experience of Daniel, how else _would_ he think of him? Daniel took a deep breath. "No, nothing like that. I'm not here to..." he stood up. "I should..."

"I didn't mean to offend you." Jack jumped to his feet too and held out his hands in a hopeless gesture. "I'm sorry. I... Can we start again?"

Daniel chewed at the inside of his lip. He was simply prolonging the discomfort he wasn't prepared to acknowledge as pain. Was there really a point in going on with his delusion that his liaison with Jack had _meant_ something? Or was it just his own psyche patching the damage done by his uncharacteristic behaviour. He nodded once.

Jack quirked a small, relieved smile. "Have a seat?"

Daniel sat down again, and Jack followed suit.

"I've read your papers," Jack began, gesturing at a stack of journals beside the couch. He looked cautious, like he was afraid of saying the wrong thing again, and it made Daniel feel guilty. He was overreacting. "I didn't understand much of the technical stuff, but..."

Something flashed across Daniel's mind, a detail he'd missed the first time, a sentence that he should have caught, but hadn't.

"What were you doing at the symposium?"

Jack's eyebrows raised in surprise. "What?"

"You said, that day in the hotel, you said you'd seen my presentation. What were you doing there?" Daniel straightened up slowly, watching Jack's response carefully.

"I was a guest of one of the delegates. I didn't stay for the whole..."

"Which delegate?"

"Does it matter?"

Daniel looked directly at Jack, knowing an evasion when he saw one. Jack held his gaze for a few seconds, and then looked down at the carpet, twining his fingers together.

"Dr. Rayner," Jack sighed.

"How do you know Steven?" Daniel wondered if his voice sounded as icy as he felt.

"I don't," Jack said quickly, then spread his hands, "I didn't. He'd recently taken a post at Chicago, which was my alma mater. He wanted me to bankroll some fancy piece of equipment, and this was his way of introducing me to his subject. I think he was trying to demonstrate that he was the next big thing, if you have a next big thing in archaeology."

"Well people like Rayner think so," Daniel replied, pinching between his eyes. "And he obviously thought he'd use my work to give himself a leg up and make himself look good."

"The guy's a dick, Daniel. I just didn't realise how much of a dick he was until it was too late."

Daniel sat back into his seat, chewing over Jack's revelation. He'd been hurt enough by Steven's attack, thinking that their intellectual paths had dispersed so far when they had once worked so well together. But to learn that Steven had been prepared to ruin Daniel's funding, credibility and career in the interests of furthering his own was almost beyond belief. He'd always known that Rayner was an ambitious man - it was why they had parted company - he'd just never realised how far Steven would be prepared to go.

A discreet knock roused Daniel from his thoughts.

Jack sighed as he glanced across at Daniel and called, "Come in."

"I'm terribly sorry to bother you, Mr O'Neill, but the conference call you were expecting with Mr. Johannes and Dr. Weitz is being connected momentarily," the butler informed him.

"Damn it. Yes. Thank you." Jack waited until the door shut before he screwed up his face and blew out an irritated breath.

"Daniel, I'm sorry. I have to take this. I'll be twenty minutes, tops."

Daniel nodded. "Of course."

"I'll get some coffee sent in," Jack said as he climbed gracefully out of the deep couch.

When he reached the door, he turned quickly. He seemed about to say something, but then smiled tightly and left as quietly as he'd arrived.

Daniel looked around the now silent room, more confused about who Jack O'Neill really was than when he'd arrived. Was he the guy who'd offered money to a stranger for sex or was he the man who had hung the painting Daniel had chosen where he'd often see it? Was he the man who'd whispered his name and trembled against him when they'd made love or was he the guy whose staff knew better than to ask questions or look shocked at a half dressed man in Jack's suite?

On the heels of this came other, even harder questions. Who was _Daniel Jackson?_ Was he the guy who put his career before all else, who defined himself by his profession or was he the guy who'd hoped to be friends with the man who'd loved him so well and so thoroughly? Was he the man too scrupulous to leave a hotel without paying or was he the man who would fall into the bed of any attractive body if they offered him enough money?

And Daniel realised, with an numbing calmness, that these were question that Jack wasn't going to be able to help him with.

As he slipped from the study and made his way back to the front door unchallenged, Daniel realised that once again they had parted with half a conversation left unsaid, and wondered if anyone _ever_ got to say goodbye to Jack O'Neill.

///

 

"Daniel?"

"Yup?" Daniel stepped out of the bath; he was done anyway and he couldn't hear over the noise of the water sloshing in the tub.

"There's someone here to see you."

"What someone?" he yelled.

Ed was a great site supervisor, a genius with lithics, but as a PA, he really didn't cut it.

Daniel wrapped a small towel around his hips and scrubbed another through his hair. He'd thought he'd never wash out all the damn sand, but he guessed he shouldn't complain - at least he had a bathtub. He remembered digs where it had been a bucketful of lukewarm water. Being site director definitely had its advantages.

"Some guy. He's in the office. I'll see you on Thursday, okay?"

"What does he want? Did you finish the section? Ed? Ed?"

There was no reply and Daniel swore under his breath. He knew that he demanded a lot from his staff, but he didn't ask anything of them that he wouldn't do himself. Many nights he'd stayed up cataloguing finds or updating site plans after a day in the trenches - that was one of the benefits of sleeping in the site office; he could work as late as he liked and just fall into bed when he literally couldn't keep his eyes open any more.

Daniel wondered who would be wanting to see him this late. He was used to the routine here, knowing that the early morning and the evening were the coolest times of the day, and that a lot of official business was transacted at these hours.

The government were understandably keeping a very close eye on the excavation, with almost daily visits and more paperwork to complete than Daniel had ever dreamed possible. Adele and Ed did what they could to help him, but Daniel bore the brunt of this extra work. Such was the price of success.

Of course since the news had broken, there had been a lot of journalists looking for interviews and a lot of offers of help and resources from the same academic institutions who'd laughed at him when his first funding had fallen through. He'd had proposals of lecture tours and book deals, and a lot of people who wanted their names associated with the most exciting thing to come out of Egypt since KV5.

"I'll be with you in just a minute," Daniel called into the office on his way by to his bedroom cum finds room to put on some clothes.

"Take your time. I'm in no hurry."

Daniel stopped dead in his tracks.

He knew that voice. He thought of it more often than he was comfortable with.

Daniel crept back to the door and peered around it into the dim little office. The man sat at the desk with his back to Daniel, and in the yellowish light of the setting sun it was hard to see the colour of his hair. It was only when the guy turned his head to look out of the window that Daniel caught sight of his profile and knew he was right.

He dressed in record time, pulling on clean pants and t-shirt but ignoring his bare feet and uncombed hair. He pushed his glasses on and padded out to meet his fate.

"Hey," Daniel said as he entered, hoping he sounded calm.

"Daniel!" Jack rose to his feet with a big, genuine grin on his face. He seemed to hesitate before he held out a hand, which Daniel took, shaking it warmly.

"How are you? What are you doing in Egypt? How did you find me?"

"Are you kidding?" Jack grinned. "You're a national hero. A whole generation of kids are growing up wanting to be archaeologists now, thanks to you."

Daniel laughed, and realising he still held Jack's hand, dropped it. Covering his embarrassment, he turned to find some clean mugs.

"Coffee? Tea?"

"Coffee would be great," Jack replied, taking his seat at Daniel's desk again.

Daniel set water to boil on the tiny gas stove and turned to face his guest. "So? Come on, what brings you to Egypt?"

"Oh, you know, sun, sand, wonders of the world. That sort of thing."

"You're on vacation?"

"Not... exactly."

"I'm sorry about the, uh...mess." Daniel swept a hand around the untidy, cramped office. "It's not quite what you're used to."

"I'm not that unworldly, Daniel. I didn't always live like I do now. Besides, you have a great view."

Well, Jack was right about that. Daniel's desk was angled so it could take in the best of the scenery, which looked especially stunning on evenings like this, bathed in the gold of sunset. They'd been lucky to get this place, and Daniel thanked providence every day that he didn't have to commute miles to the nearest town at the end of each day, or worse, live in a tent onsite.

The window was propped open, letting the scent of the cooling sand in through the window. Sometimes you could even smell the river, several miles away, if the wind was coming from the right direction.

Daniel moved around to Jack's side of the desk and glanced out of the window before his eyes were drawn back to Jack. He looked good in a cotton shirt and pants - cool and relaxed despite the stuffy heat of the office.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," Jack smiled, looking up at Daniel's hair and then down to his bare feet on the tile floor. "You must be tired after a day of... whatever it is you're doing."

Daniel rolled his eyes at Jack's pretence at ignorance. "No, You're not disturbing me at all," he lied. "It's... It's nice to see you."

Jack cocked his head and lifted an eyebrow - the one with the scar that Daniel had never had time to ask about. "Yeah?"

Daniel nodded. "Yeah." And he was surprised to realise that he meant it. He hadn't dared hope that Jack would try to make contact with him, even when his discoveries had made international headlines. He still wasn't at peace with the events of that day in Chicago, but time had tempered the anger and humiliation and left him with a feeling of disappointment - in himself, in Jack and in the universe for throwing them together under such circumstances.

"Then it was worth all the effort it took to find you."

"I thought I was famous," Daniel reminded Jack, leaning back to rest against the desk.

"I thought there'd be signposts," Jack replied, copying Daniel's action by leaning back in the rickety desk chair.

Daniel laughed. "Well, you must have noticed that this is pretty far off the beaten track out here. Seriously, how did you find us? The location of the site is supposed to be secret," he challenged Jack with a small smile, and realised that he was flirting.

"Well it's amazing what you can get if you have the right currency with you."

As soon as the words left Jack's mouth, he went totally still and pale. It was like time had stalled, sucking all the air from the room. Stricken, his eyes met Daniel's. "I didn't mean... I wasn't implying that..."

Daniel licked his lips and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to ignore the irregular, sickening thump his heart had given. Was there always going to be this terrible presence looming over every conversation they ever had? Did every seemingly innocent sentence have to take on huge, scary dimensions, loaded as it was with the shadow of their first meeting?

"Daniel," Jack said earnestly, "I swear, I didn't come here to remind you..."

"It's okay, Jack. It's the truth after all. We can't pretend it didn't happen." Daniel shrugged.

"So that's the way it is, is it? You couldn't just pretend that it never happened the way it did? That it happened differently? Better?"

"I could pretend, but it would never go away, Jack. I did something... unforgivable, uncharacteristic, just so I could come here and prove a point."

"You were right, though." Jack was watching him intently, his face serious.

"So it would seem. But the result doesn't excuse the means, does it?"

"Daniel..."

"So why _are_ you here, Jack?" Daniel interrupted, steering them back to the point at hand, and pinning Jack with an uncompromising gaze.

"I don't know," Jack admitted without pause for thought. His face was blank, as if all the emotion had been wrung out of him. Daniel could almost feel sorry for him.

"You came all this way and you don't know why?"

"I wanted to see you again."

"Why?"

Jack's lips shaped words that wouldn't come, and he shook his head distractedly.

"Could you forget, Jack?" Daniel pressed. It seemed it would be up to him to decide the end of their story, but he still, even now, didn't know if he was doing the right thing. "Could you ever think of me as anything but the guy you bought in Chicago?"

"Yes, of course!" Jack said, finally showing some animation. "I don't think of you like that, Daniel! I'd never think of you in those terms. I wouldn't _be_ here if I did."

Jack rubbed an agitated hand over his face and leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk, letting his hands curl in on themselves and fall to the dusty surface. "Look, we both did something... stupid. I wanted to tell you, when you came to the house, that I know you're not the kind of man who would..."

"Oh, but I am, it would seem. And you're the kind of man who would ask." And Daniel didn't know which hurt worse.

"Never before and never again," Jack vowed. "I swear, Daniel. If my idiocy has ruined this... this..." He seemed to run out of words again, and lowered his head into his hands.

Daniel swallowed, his mouth as dry as the sand and rock outside his window, waiting to hear Jack's idea of what they were, listening for any sign that they might stand a chance.

"Forgive me, Daniel. I don't know what I was thinking." Jack lifted his head, staring out of the window where the stars had begun to shine brightly enough to be seen. But Jack's eyes were unfocussed, elsewhere. "I just... I saw you, and I... I wanted you. At the lecture, when they were laughing, you just... you were so fucking amazing. Just so strong and full of conviction. I admired you. And then when I heard you arguing with the hotel staff, and I saw you close up, I could see that you were as smart as you were strong and I... I thought if I... I wanted part of you in my life. I just didn't realise that I wanted it there... permanently."

Jack dropped his gaze back to the untidy desk and his hands, palms up on the surface.

Daniel hesitated. Could he be sure of Jack's change of heart or was this simply the reaction of a man who wasn't used to not having what he wanted? Perhaps this was finally the truth of it and they had reached a place where they could stop running blindly and start moving forward with purpose

Daniel turned and switched off the stove. "Wait there," he said quietly and padded to his room. With shaking hands he took the draft of his first season's excavation report from beside his bed and returned to the office. Switching on the desk lamp, he placed the report in front of Jack.

"What's this?" Jack asked, looking like Daniel had put a tropical fish before him.

"Excavation report so far," Daniel replied, forcing down the sick feeling squirming in his guts. "Just read the first page."

Jack slowly complied, turning the cover over and beginning to read.

Daniel took a key from a pot on the shelf behind him and unlocked the top drawer of his desk. He took out a cream envelope, one that he'd placed there on the first night they'd arrived. It was addressed in Daniel's hand to Jack's house in Lake Bluff.

When Daniel turned back, Jack was looking at him, his eyes alive with questions. Before he could ask any of them, Daniel handed him the envelope.

Jack took it and lifted the flap enough to see the contents. It was a check to cover all of the million Daniel hadn't spent on the excavation.

"If you don't like the benefactor status, I can get you the rest back when they pay me for the book they want me to write," Daniel said quietly, not daring to look Jack in the eye yet.

"No, no, it sounds good," Jack said, turning to the report again and quoting, " '... without the generous support of Mr. Jack O'Neill, both financial and moral. His sponsorship of this excavation at such short notice saved the entire project and made it possible to...' yadda yadda yadda. I think I come out of it much better than I deserve. But can _you_ believe it, Daniel? Can you forget? Forgive?"

"History, they say, is written by the victors," Daniel said slowly. "In order for me to write that, I need to win out of this situation."

"Win?" Jack frowned. "Win what?"

"The guy," Daniel explained simply, sounding a lot more confident than he felt. He looked up to see Jack's reaction.

"That was never in question," Jack replied after a stunned second's silence, a grin now spreading across his face. "I was done for the second you took on that desk clerk."

"I am a man of many talents," Daniel said, trying to keep his tone serious when he really wanted to shout out loud in relief.

"Of which I am aware, although I must admit, my memory isn't what it once was." Jack's smile was predatory and his intent clear.

Daniel leaned down, placing a hand on either arm of Jack's chair. "Perhaps a small reminder?" he offered.

Jack's arms were around him before he'd finished speaking, pulling him in, demanding kisses, touching his face, his hair, his skin as if he were a dying man with one last chance for a taste of life.

Daniel complied wholeheartedly, nipping at Jack's mouth, murmuring encouragement interspersed with curses at how stupid they'd been to have almost thrown this away over something as mundane as money and morals.

Jack found a way under Daniel's t-shirt, the touch of his hands making Daniel groan and shift restlessly. He couldn't return the favour, having most of his weight firmly on his hands; if he lifted one to pull Jack closer, he'd end up on the floor by the way of Jack's lap - the chair hadn't been reliable at the best of times and with the weight of two grown, frantic men on it, it wouldn't survive.

This didn't seem to bother Jack in the slightest, and his fingers skimmed Daniel's ribs, chest and back with a kind of reckless joy, unable to settle for the touch of one part when he could have it all.

When Jack's hands took a hold of Daniel's ass and squeezed, kneading his cheeks through the thin cotton of his pants, Daniel thought he'd come right there and then, but he held on. However when the roaming fingers reached round and began unzipping, Daniel had to act.

He wanted to touch Jack. He wanted to know the freedom that Jack was experiencing first-hand. He wanted to be learning Jack's likes and dislikes and he wanted to take his time.

They had come so close to never knowing this. It would have been so easy to live with the guilt and regret rather than face it - Daniel knew that it would have taken great strength for him to have approached Jack again after their last encounter - and he honestly didn't know if he'd have had skin that was thick enough.

With a last, lingering kiss, Daniel pulled back.

Jack's eyes were wide, hot and desperate. "Daniel?"

"Not here," Daniel explained, his voice hoarse and his cock throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

"Bed?" Jack asked hopefully, already climbing out of the protesting chair.

Daniel hesitated, then took Jack by the hand, flicked off the desk lamp, and led him out into the darkening hall. He pushed open the door of his bedroom and gestured for Jack to look.

Jack looked into the tiny, whitewashed room. Jack looked back at Daniel. Jack looked into the bedroom once more. "What?" he demanded, seeming a little impatient.

"Jack, it's hardly big enough to swing a cat," Daniel said. There were trays of finds all around the floor, pushed up against the wall. There were marker pens and tissue and boxes and bags and textbooks and pages and pages of handwritten notes on every surface. And in the corner, beneath a sheer, white mosquito net stood Daniel's bed, which was really little more than a cot. It had been a great joke at the beginning of the project, that there would be no excavation romances if this were the most impressive piece of furniture the little house had to offer. It was, however the only place in the room that didn't have finds or recording materials all over it.

"What? You want to go back to my hotel in Djarma? Because, I've got to tell you, Daniel, I don't think I'm gonna last..."

"I can't. Someone has to stay onsite at all times, in case of thieves, and Ed's just gone and Adele won't be here until the morning, and..."

"Daniel... _Daniel!_."

Daniel stopped.

"This is fine. We'll just have to cuddle all night. I thought we'd just established that wasn't a problem?"

"I just... I've thought about it for the last five months, Jack, how we'd be together, if we ever got over our problems. I never imagined _you'd_ come looking for _me_, I thought... I thought..."

Jack took Daniel's other hand and turned him, so they were facing each other, standing close, eye-to-eye.

"You're delusional, Daniel Jackson. How can you have the confidence to stand up and challenge accepted theory in your profession, and yet you get hung up on the most minor details in your personal life?"

"Minor? Jack, we come from different _planets_! You have Lear jets and high finance and live in a palace... _several_ palaces! I live off grant money and a teacher's salary, and those are not guaranteed! I don't even _have_ a home in the States right now. "

"Details, Daniel," Jack replied, slowly stepping in and folding his arms around Daniel's waist, then gently tugging them closer together. "Unimportant details."

But Daniel wasn't quite ready to be reassured. "Jack, I can't... I can't do this, start this, if we're not sure we stand a chance."

"You serious?" Jack murmured into Daniel's still damp hair, kissing his forehead.

Daniel nodded. This was purgatory. He had what he wanted, what he'd dreamed of, right here in his arms, and miraculously, it seemed to want him just as much, but he knew that their expectations of life were so wildly different, he couldn't be sure that they'd ever be able to find a compromise.

"Daniel, I have travelled to _Africa_ to find you. I have cancelled a dinner with the President of the United States so I can be here. I have a sixty million dollar contract that's about to go sour on me, that I've dropped so I can spend some time with you. Does that not sound like the behaviour of a guy who knows what's a priority and what's not?"

"Really? The President?" Daniel repeated, tilting his head, so Jack could reach his jaw a little better. His pulse was racing and his dick was aching and it seemed that Jack had all the right answers.

"Really. And if that's not enough to convince you, the hotel I'm staying in?" Jack paused. "It's three star."

"My God," Daniel sympathised, twining his hands in Jack's shirt and using it to pull Jack's hips closer.

"I know. I may need counselling," Jack muttered, rocking against Daniel.

"So you think our chances are pretty good, then?"

"Pretty good," Jack nodded, his voice taking on a slightly desperate edge. "Better than good. I'd put them at a 90% probability of a positive outcome."

"That's good odds," Daniel agreed, beginning to dance Jack back through the open door toward his bed. The buttons on Jack's shirt were easy and Daniel could finally reach the skin he'd been craving. Jack helped when Daniel pushed his sleeves off his arms, and let his shirt fall to the floor. Daniel took Jack's hand, found the opening to the net and tugged Jack closer.

"What are we falling down on? What's the other 10%?" he asked with a small frown.

"_Still_ with the details, Daniel?"

Daniel raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

"Well, I realise it's a lot to ask, but Daniel? You've got to buy a bigger damn bed."

Daniel grinned and pulled Jack through the netting and onto his cot, loving the feel of his weight against him.

Daniel figured if it was a million dollars that had almost destroyed his chance of this, that a couple of hundred bucks on a new bed would be a reasonable price to pay.

Fin


End file.
